


Proper Care of Your Dragon

by TheGirlInTheB



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic, Dragon!phil, Fluff, Gen, Human!Clint, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Clint, clint cares for phil, dragons don't eat junior agents, stitches from past missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:52:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6942403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlInTheB/pseuds/TheGirlInTheB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil is a dragon who has had a long week at work. Clint helps make it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proper Care of Your Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> I might do more of these but for now here it is.

Phil Coulson is a dragon. He’s been one as long as he can remember. There aren’t all that many dragons left in the world and he’s the only one at SHIELD. Most days he spends his time in human form chasing baby agents and filling out paper work. But on missions –when he’s not overseeing them –Phil is SHIELD’s secret weapon.

As a young dragon he has enough magic to change his size. Phil can be as big as a house or as small as a house cat. He can breathe white hot fire and smoke leaving trails of ash and stinky sulfur in his wake, or spread massive leathery wings wide enough to skim the clouds. His glistening inky blue scales are hard enough to deflect bullets and claws sharp enough to gore. Phil’s made grown men wet themselves –both in and out of his scales.

When Fury found him he was still pretty young, his parents had died leaving him alone and still new to his powers. Fury had taken Phil under a metaphorical wing and given him a place to stay and all the protection SHIELD offered.

The hellicarrier is nothing like his den where his mother and father raised him and he misses them and their den fiercely since their death. But it’s closest to the sky and he can easily get out and spread his wings on nice days.

But his favorite thing, by far, is coming home to his archer after a long day at work.

Phil carefully takes off his suit jacket and tie, putting them away so they don’t wrinkle as he prepares to change. He’s figured enough of the magic to keep his underwear and dress shirt on when he switches between, meaning he’s not butt naked when he goes back to human. A real plus. But he still hasn’t figured pants out yet.

Phil is still young by dragon standards –his own parents were hundreds of years old when they’d passed and Phil at forty three still has room to grow. He has time to figure it all out –but he wishes he had another dragon to help him.

Clint’s already home when Phil’s taking his tie off and the archer smiles easily at the sight of his husband. Clint’s on SHIELD’s mandatory 48 hour stand-down after a week-long mission in Peru meaning he’s had the day to himself, which was sorely needed –there’s still a bandage on his bare arm and forehead from where he got stitches. But Phil’s bird came back to him in one piece and not on a stretcher this time. He’s happy to have his husband home.

“Long day?” Clint asks, stealing a quick kiss.

“Long week.” Phil amends, Clint notices the circles under his eyes, “My wings ache.” an unfortunate symptom of staying human for too long without a change. It’s been that kind of week. He needs to be in his scales.

Normally Phil is not one to complain. Clint’s seen the older agent complete a mission with a broken nose and a deep slash to his side without so much as a word. Agent Coulson would never say a word about his wings for anything short of a dire emergency so the man before him is all Phil. Phil who trusts Clint with everything.

It’s days like this Clint takes pretty seriously because it’s his turn to look after his husband. After all the days Phil looked after him.

And Clint’s so good to him –Coulson’s still not sure how he got so lucky.

So when Clint steps a little closer, tips his voice a little softer and calmer, lets his arms tuck around Phil’s sides to press flat and warm to his shoulder blades –where his wings are under the human guise, where they ache like a sore tooth –Phil knows he’s safe.

“How about this? I get some dinner ready while you work out those wings, maybe we can have a nice hot bath –get those scales all polished and then some tv –how’s that sound?” Clint’s moved his hands, massaging the aches out of Phil’s shoulders just how he likes it. Internally he grumbles at how tight Phil’s muscles are. He’s been away for a week and look at the state Fury let his husband get into! (Sure Phil needed to own some of that, but Clint’s usually a good balance for Phil –making sure he doesn’t overwork himself.)

”Perfect.” Phil sighs as Clint’s fingers dig into a tight knot of muscle. He loves warmth and the heat from Clint’s hands and closely pressed chest is lovely. Instinctively the agent sticks his nose against Clint’s neck, right where his blond hair starts. His cheek rubs against the soft patch of skin as he snuffles –breathing and scent marking at once.

Clint’s laugh is more of a huff of warm air. Phil’s tired enough, and comfortable enough, to fall back on his scaley instincts.

“Great –I’ll start getting dinner ready,” Barton punctuates the idea with a kiss to Phil’s shoulder, “while you finish up here.”

Coulson hums his approval but mourns the heat of Clint’s body when his husband moves away towards the kitchen. Damn he must be way off his game. This week was longer than he thought. But Clint’s already humming away in the kitchen, and there’s the smell of fresh meat and herbs and warm butter sizzling in the pan –the sooner he changes the sooner this weekend can start.

Phil closes his eyes and thinks of his scales and aching wings –the pain sharpens and he wishes he’d done this sooner, changed sometime earlier in the week –but it’s too late for that. He reaches for the warm fire that sits coiled in his belly. The magic that flows over him doesn’t hurt –it’s not that kind of change. Not like a werewolf or shifter whose organs shuffle and bones grind down, it’s not like that at all. His human self shimmers until it’s gone and Coulson the dragon is left.

Dark inky blue scales –so dark they look black. When they catch the light just right they shine. Two horn-like ears atop his head lift to catch the apartment sounds. His ruff-like neck fluffs up catching the warmth and keeping it close. Phil’s back spines trail down his tail all the way to the feathery tip. He stands on four strong legs; each toe tipped with sharp claws.

It’s the cramping in his leathery wings that hurts –and that’s just from keeping them all tucked up in his dragon form. Phil’s made sure to change small –about the size of a small cat. He lets himself do a full body shake to right his scales. Dragon vision is colour, but not the same as a human’s and it’s hard to explain the different colour spectrums to Clint. What he can see, is warmth, waves of it coming off things. Like the nice heated blanket Clint’s left out on the couch.

And has Phil told anyone how much he loves Clint Barton lately?

The blanket is practically radiating warmth and Phil trots over to the couch and makes a graceful leap up onto the furniture. It’s probably way too warm for a human, but not for a dragon. Phil turns in circles, letting his sharp claws prick at the material, kneading it into a nest before folding his legs under himself and sitting with his wings outstretched on either side. The heat helps sooth the ache away and for a moment Phil lets himself burry his snout in the blanket. It smells like Clint and him and home.

Clint’s voice isn’t a surprise; his ears had perked up at his footfalls even with his face in the blanket. But he looks up to see the man kneeling in front of the couch. He’s wearing an apron that says ‘HERE BE DRAGONS’ with a little cartoon dragon stitched on one of the pockets. The edges of the apron have little green triangle fringes like spines. Clint bought it as a joke but Phil thinks it’s cute, if inaccurate. His spines are much better.

“You wanna eat out here or in the kitchen?” Clint asks. When Phil cocks his scaley head towards the kitchen –his tail thumping once against the couch –Clint decides.

“Out here it is. You can stay on the blanket and eat.” Phil’s still a little unsure. He should get up –the kitchen is easier to clean than the couch if he makes a mess…but the blanket is doing wonders for his wings…

Clint brings out two plates and an armful of paper towels –most of which he lays around Phil’s plate. His husband thinks of everything. Phil head butts the archer’s arm in thanks, smooth little trails of smoke wisp happily from his nostrils.

“Love you too, Phil.” Clint grins, sitting down beside him on the couch to enjoy his own meal while updating Phil on his day and his debrief of the mission. Phil’s dinner is six thick cuts of steak that have just touched the searing pan so the outside is nice and browned but inside is near blue. The juicy meat is just right as Phil tears off chunks to swallow fast. Dragons need to eat a lot and Phil uses up energy changing in and out of his scales. Fury’s made sure that they have a whole separate walk in freezer on the hellicarier stocked just for Phil –he may or may not have threatened a few people with being eaten by Phil for bad behavior but Coulson’s always grumbled that junior agents are too stringy for his tastes.

“And you’ll be happy to know I didn’t jump off a building this time.” Clint says proudly.

Phil snorts and eyes the bandage on his husband’s brow.

“That? It’s nothing –just missed the last rung coming down from my perch.” He’d been up there for half a day with no breaks and was more than a little dehydrated when the rusty fire escape ladder decided this was the day it would quit. “I even let medical have a look –I didn’t sneak out this time.”

Phil continues to eye Clint suspiciously but he hadn’t seemed off and the bandage only smelt of antiseptic ointment from medical. If medical had cleared him than Barton was fine.

Clint’s gathering up the plates and dumping them in the sink for later –grabbing a stash of Phil’s special dark chocolate with hot peppers from the cupboards. He breaks off a piece before walking back to the couch to offer it to Phil. Dragons can eat just about anything really, the molten fire inside them could melt a car down. The dark chocolate has a nice rich spice to it and Phil likes the heat –taking the treat from Clint’s fingers gently before letting it melt in his jaws. He purrs happily and Clint lets his hand brush over Phil’s scales. 

“I’ll start up the bath if you want to stay here for a bit longer?” He asks. Phil clicks a few times, stretching his legs out and hopping down off the couch to slink off towards the spare room where he keeps his hoard of treasures leaving Clint to smile and head off towards the bathroom.

Phil’s hoard is really just his Cap memorabilia which he checks on every week. Most other dragons he’d heard of had collections of priceless art, coins or jewels. Phil’s hoard wasn’t as fancy, but it was important to him and he was proud of the collectibles he’s obtained.

He noses through the cards and sniffs carefully at the old bagged and boarded comics. Each one in its place. The spare room isn’t that big, but there’s a large plush pillow in the pattern of Captain America’s shield and Phil pulls out a small shoe box, carrying it over to the pillow before he contentedly curls up on it.

It’s good to feel full, his wings free at last while surrounded by his hoard.

The box is filled with arrowheads and knickknacks Clint’s brought back for him from missions. A small stuffed alpaca, a Captain America Pez dispenser and a tacky looking post card of the Swiss Alps with the words WISH YOU WERE HERE. The card was singed around the edges when Clint had left it on Phil’s desk –it had been a rough mission and Phil had really wished he’d gone with Clint on that one but was so glad his archer had come back to joke about it.

Phil counts each arrowhead and pauses over his favorite ones before moving on. The sound of running water meets his ears and he hums happily. It seems like no time at all when Clint’s at the door telling him the bath’s ready. Phil’s put the box away but feels lazy enough to not want to walk.

“The water’s gonna get cold, babe.” Clint reminds. But Phil just huffs lets his head drop back down to the pillow –his gold eyes still looking up at Clint.

Sighing good naturedly, Clint scoops Phil up in his arms and carries him down the hallway. Phil lifts his head to bunt it up against his husband’s chin. “Yeah, yeah, I’m the best dragon taxi service.”

Phil clicks twice to remind him of all the times he’s carried Clint but they’re already at the bathroom. The room is warm with waves of steam coming off the tub and Phil forgets to argue and practically melts in Clint’s arms. The tub is specially made with little water jets and temperature control so it can be set for either Clint or Phil’s preference.

Clint’s lit a few scented candles that make the room smell like warm peppermint. When Coulson’s scales first touch the water he huffs out a deep sigh and lets himself fully relax. The heat coaxes his muscles loose; the sweet scent of peppermint eases him into a drowsy half-awake state. When the water cools enough for Clint to dip his hands in, he’s got a damp cloth to gently wash under Phil’s claws and along his spines.

“You worked so hard this week. I wish I’d been here –Fury usually ships us out together so I was worried you’d over work yourself while I was gone.” The soothing sound of Clint’s voice makes Phil purr softly, though he grumbles a bit because he too was worried about Clint. Without Phil on the mission was Clint resting enough? Did he have to stay out on a perch for days? If he’d been hurt Phil would have been so upset for not being there. Would the supervising agent make sure Clint got to medical?

“I was worried that you were missing meals –that you’d just be at your desk or running after the junior agents or at meetings all day. I know you don’t sleep as well when I’m not there.” Clint goes on, “I know it’s dumb because you’re totally capable of looking after yourself, but I care about you, Phil –and you worry about me all the time so I figure I can worry about you too.”

Phil wants to say ‘of course you can’ but he just licks the inside of Clint’s wrist. Talking about feelings isn’t always something Barton’s comfortable with so Phil’s happy to listen.

When the bath’s done, Clint’s got a nice fluffy towel and some special wax for Phil’s scales. With the DVR set to play the newest episodes of Super Nanny, Phil and his towel are settled on the couch cushions while Clint brushes gently over his warm scales with a smooth cloth and some wax. Some of the older, damaged scales come loose and Clint sets them aside and checks that new growth is coming in nicely while he polishes Phil’s side. He’s even careful to massage between Phil’s toes leaving his husband in a blissed out dragon puddle.

“You really need to take more days off, sir.” Clint smiles between commercials, “Can’t keep having you so tense at the end of the week.”

He means to say something like ‘I’ll take time off when you quit landing yourself in medical’ or ‘maybe when the world isn’t falling apart’ which it always seems to be at SHIELD, but it comes out a drowsy rumbling sound instead. Despite the tense week of meetings and paper work and missing Clint it had ended pretty well. Clint’s here, Phil’s here, and the dragon falls asleep beside his husband on the couch. Perfect.


End file.
